Beach slapped

Southampton Bathing Corp. — the exclusive, members-only beach club for the privileged Mayflower set — has a wasp problem.

No, really. An actual wasp problem.

"For a while, they would put these jars of sugar water on the tables to attract the wasps and keep them from stinging people," says Steven Stolman, president of Scalamandré, the New York decorative textiles company and a regular guest at Bathing Corp. since the early '90s.

"And I just thought that was really ironic that a WASP club is beleaguered by real wasps."

Ironic? Maybe. Acceptable? Absolutely not.

Doug Kuntz

The uber-exclusive Southampton Bathing Corp. shuns the nouveau riche — as well as modern conveniences such as air conditioning.

Photos: PHOTOS: Who's in, who's out at the Southampton Bathing Corp.

This is, after all, the seaside haunt for nearly 800 of New York's most established old-money names. Founded in 1923, the Bathing Corp. is said to be one of the hardest clubs to gain entry to on the entire East Coast. It regularly blacklists billionaires (hedge funder Walter Noel before the Madoff scandal disgraced him) and axes spouses, who are too flashy or too pedestrian (Elena Ford, daughter of Charlotte Ford and Stavros Niarchos, is a member, but neither of her ex-husbands — a maintenance man and a plumber, respectively — made the cut).

Members regularly appear in "The Blue Book," the annual Hamptons society phone book that lists Long Island residents-of-worth, along with their club affiliations, colleges and prep schools, and estate names.

The snob factor runs so high, Bathing Corp. lifeguard Christian Londono says he can pick out guests "who go to public schools" because "they don't have that classy look to them."

One would think that for all the behind-the-scenes drama, an estimated $30,000 initiation fee and social X-ray members such as Muffie Potter Aston, Anne Hearst and Debbie Bancroft padding about in their Jack Rogers sandals, the Bathing Corp. would be a luxurious seaside retreat with loads of amenities not available to the average plebe.

But in fact, "the beach club," as it's endearingly known to cable-knit-clad insiders, is nothing more than a "teeny-weeny," lunch-only, no-frills "Holiday Inn on the beach," according to a frequent guest who asked to remain anonymous.

Annual dues in the $3,000 to $5,000 range gets you into the pool, no A/C and access to a cafeteria-style lunch line with plastic trays and admittedly "OK" food, says one male lifetime member who made The Post swear to shield his identity, lest he be dropped from the club and sully the family name. (Not included: the tallied costs of chairs, towels, umbrellas, meals and drinks.)

The bit of beach reserved for members (though technically public terrain) sits adjacent to an uncomely outflow pipe for nearby Lake Agawam. And the biggest social event of the season is an old-fashioned "Battle Royale": "You're all on floaties in the pool and you have to try to knock people off and get them out. It's really fun," says Kristina-Li Neknez, who worked at Southampton Bathing Corp. for six years as a busser and buffet server.

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